Camp Hogwarts Archive
by AmazingGraceless
Summary: My one-shots for the Camp Hogwarts competition.
1. Fight Like a Lady

**AN: This is for the Camp Hogwarts Competition, for Cabin Prewett. This is for the Archery prompt, write about a medieval duel. The word count is 919, for judging purposes.**

* * *

"You fight like a lady, Godric!" Salazar Slytherin called over to his best friend. Godric Gryffindor looked away from the enchanted dummies he had made to practice fighting in the summer sun.

"Well, mate, why don't you try practicing your dueling in this heat?" Godric asked with a teasing smile as he fanned himself. "It's bloody scorching out here. Ladylike fighting can't be helped."

"Did I hear something about fighting like a lady?" A soft Welsh voice carried out into the breeze onto the lakeside ruins close by the castle.

The men looked to see their two female consorts standing atop the great steps of their school of magic, soon to open in the coming autumn. One was in silken robes of blue and looked rather ominous, with her black waves coming to her waves and her fierce dark eyes that threatened to swallow you whole. The other was in lacy robes of a gay yellow, and her coppery red curls were hovering around her shoulders, bouncing with glee anywhere she stepped.

The woman in dark blue, the one known as Rowena Ravenclaw, merely stood there, staring into the men's souls threateningly, as if telling them to never do it again, to say that much dreaded phrase amongst the witches of the era.

The woman in yellow, however, who was known as Helga Hufflepuff, lifted her sunny skirts, and started skipping down the steps.

How Salazar's heart skipped a beat, whenever that sunny witch came his way. Something about the way that light seemed to radiate from her, even in pure darkness, caught his attentions, caught his gray eyes in a way that was remotely strange to him. It made him want to fuss with his dark hair, straighten his robes, and stand up a bit taller.

"What's this I hear about fighting like a lady?" Helga asked. Her tone was teasing, but there were undertones of things more serious in her voice.

Dread filled Godric and Salazar's heart. They loved Helga, Godric platonically, and Salazar in a more romantic way, but they knew that she was the least talented of the four friends. Rowena was a known Diviner, Salazar was a Parseltongue, and Godric was a Squid Animagus, but Helga had no known special talent that set her apart from the others.

"Ah, Helga," Godric said in a supposedly flattering tone. "We meant it as a joke. We weren't trying to insult you or Rowena."

Helga placed her hands on her hips, and suddenly, she wasn't so merry anymore. "A joke? You think belittling the way an entire gender fights is a joke?"

Godric internally groaned. He forgot about Helga's rants about her crazy ideas. She was a great case for why women shouldn't think. Rowena was at least logical, but Helga's arguments all seemed to come out of nowhere.

"That's not what we were saying at all," Salazar intervened, trying to placate Helga. "We just meant-"

"I know what you meant, and I consider it to be quite offensive!" Helga said glaring at Salazar so fiercely he had to look away. Her anger was as blinding as the sun. She looked at Godric. "If you think women fight so horribly, go ahead. Duel me." She raised her wand.

Everyone groaned internally. Everyone knew that Helga was no duelist. She was the peacekeeper, the healer of the group. Heaven knows they had Godric and Salazar and Rowena for that.

"What, you don't think I can take you on?" Helga continued. "Is it because I'm a woman? Go ahead. Duel me."

"Fine," Godric said. " _Incendio_!" A jet of fire shot at Helga.

" _Aguamenti_!" Helga called, and water shot out of the end of her wand, and met Gryffindor's fire, effectively canceling both spells.

" _Ventus_!" She then called. A gale pushed Godric on his back, and Helga advanced.

" _Flipendo_!" Godric casted desperately. Helga was already proving to be more than he thought. She went flipping over, onto her stomach finally. She staggered to her feet.

Godric then wordlessly summoned a storm of fire from the depths of Hell, and sent it straight at Helga, who rose on a tornado made of water, that quenched the fire, and spat water at Godric, who admitted to rather preferring the squirts. They were better than the scorching summer sun, that was for sure.

Helga then descended her tornado.

He then sent a Stunning Spell her way.

Helga dodged, and retaliated, only for a total miss. She then conjured a unicorn in front of her.

Godric stared at it, wide-eyed, as pixies sprouted from the mane of the unicorn, and the unicorn stamped its foot, and lowered its head. Godric ran off screaming, and dove underwater to escape the pixies that were trying to sting him.

Helga turned to a wide-eyed Salazar and a shocked Rowena. "If anybody had any doubts that I can duel, and that women are talented duelists, I hope they are resolved?"

Salazar nodded rapidly. Rowena ran into the castle as quickly as she could, still totally surprised by the outcome in a fight between fierce Gryffindor and sweet Hufflepuff.

Salazar continued to stare as Helga mounted the unicorn, and rode off into the Enchanted Wood, where all things magical seemed to happen in Scotland.

Godric poked his head out. "Is the coast clear?" He asked.

"The pixies all rode off with Helga," Salazar assured his dripping friend as he helped him out of the Black Lake.

"Good. I never want to see another one again," Godric swore.


	2. Budding Writer

**AN: Again, Camp Hogwarts challenge. This is Pottery, write the Next Gen characters making their parents something. The word count is 1,506.**

* * *

"Molly? Molly?" Lucy came bouncing down the hallway of the flat in London where the two girls lived with their parents.

Molly looked up from the stacks of paper she was scribbling away at with her fine nib pen that Aunt Hermione had given her for Christmas. "What is it, Lu?"

"I was wondering if you were up for a game of Gobstones," Lucy said primly, folding her hands behind her back, her flaming bob bouncing with excitement that naturally seemed to radiate from the hyperactive twelve-year-old.

"Maybe another time, Lu," Molly said, and she leaned down and began working on another sheet of the fine paper she was copying in elegant, readable script from a messy scrawl spread over pages of a thick, slightly battered notebook.

"What are you doing?" Lucy asked, as she tapped her fingers restlessly on Molly's desk.

"Writing a story," Molly said. "For Dad."

* * *

Funny, how it started. Molly had always been able to read, for as long as she could remember. She didn't know a time where she couldn't understand the black squiggles on the page, and what they meant.

She always had an imagination, too. "Look, Daddy, there's a rainbow! Maybe it can take me to fairyland," she'd say excitedly after it rained. Her mother always disapproved of such fantasies ("Just a bunch of poisonous fairytales," her mother would rant vehemently,) but her father always held her up to the window and nurtured them.

"And maybe there'll be a little fairy Prince Charming waiting for you," her father would murmur in her ear.

"Percy!" Her mother would swat him when he said anything about a Prince Charming or a knight in shining armor. "I will not have my daughter growing up as some damsel in distress, with misogynistic fantasies!"

Her father would then sigh and put Molly down, who would go and make drawings of her little fairies and scribble out poor imitations of the scribbles to write about her little fairies. In her mind, they were just as good as the fairy stories, muggle and magical alike, that she adored so much.

* * *

Her father insisted she go to a muggle school. "She's curious, and they can teach her a little more than we ever could about literature! You know how much she loves to read!"

"Yes, but just look at what they're reading in kindergarten," her mother had snarled. " _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_. How cute. _Cinderella_. How inspiring. _Rapunzel._ My definite favorite out of the bunch."

"They're just fairytales!" Her father protested.

"Just fairytales?" Her mother snapped. "They're misogyny, and works of sexism and so-called chivalry that males think are oh-so good, but have held women back for centuries."

"That's not what they're trying to pull," her father said gently, taking her mother's hands into his own. "Besides, she's independent, and she can re-write the stories."

Molly remembered that later, when she wrote and drew her fantasies out. She could change the story for herself.

* * *

"Really? A Barbie doll?" Her mother cried when Molly had said her one wish for Christmas that year that she was in kindergarten. "I remember how my cousin who liked dolls were into those. They're unnatural, Molly, and I don't want you to have one of those demonic things!"

Molly's upper lip trembled. "I-I-I just wanted one... To act out my fairy stories. About a princess and a prince-"

"Oh, your fairy stories," her mother snarled. "Let me tell you, Molly Guinevere Weasley! I will not allow you to keep poisoning your mind with those fairytales, or your father for that matter! Just wait until he gets home!"

Her father came home that evening. Molly cried in her room at all the trouble she'd caused, and her parents yelling. She'd just wanted to make up stories with those dolls. What was so bad about that?

"You go talk to her!" Her mother snapped at her father.

"Fine, fine, I'm going." Her father came into her room, with a gentle smile on his face. "Hey, my little Molly-Gwen. Your mother says you're really upset."

"I just wanted to make a story," Molly had sobbed. She had gathered the page of the scribbles that were her attempt at a storybook. "This one."

Her father took the pages, and cleared his voice to read them aloud. "Once upon a time, there was a prince and a princess.

"The princess and prince were best friends who came from kingdoms who were friends. They played together and practiced for being king and queen together. When they were older, they had fallen in love, but they didn't tell each other that they were.

"One day, the princess was taken by a scary dragon. The prince was heartbroken, but he set out to slay the dragon. He rode for many days and nights but was very tired when he finally found the dragon.

"He distracted the dragon, and told the princess to run because he loved her. He was too tired to be a match for the dragon, and the dragon was about to eat him up! But before he could, the princess slayed the dragon with a sword she found in his horde.

"The Prince asked why the princess hadn't run and saved herself, and she told him that it was because she loved him. The two kissed, and they rode off on two white horses into the sunset and lived happily ever after."

Her father looked up at her. "You wrote that?" He asked, genuinely amazed.

Molly nodded.

"I'll have to show this to your mother. You could be an amazing writer one day, you know that?" He said. He smiled, and went to go talk to Audrey.

* * *

Her father would encourage her to keep writing. Even when she'd rather be romancing some boy, he told her to practice her writing every single day. And she did. He'd enroll her in writing courses, and give her self-help books. He'd give her his genuine criticisms when she asked for it, and would be there for her when she needed a muse uplift, or had writer's block.

Her father had encouraged her to write. Molly now wanted to write something for him. So she'd taken that simple little tale she'd wrote in her childhood, and began writing a complex, young-adult version.

Unlike her other novel in the publishing works as of now, this was completely for her father. Percy Weasley had struck ill from aubrey influenza, and needed many excruciating, expensive treatments in order to get better.

Molly had made a deal that all of her proceeds from this would go towards his treatments, and the treatments of many others suffering from this new disease that was spreading everywhere in the wizarding world.

She had only one last thing to do. _To my darling daddy, who always believed in me. I hope you get better!_ She smiled, satisfied, and took the makeshift cover she'd made for this special copy she'd made specifically for him.

"Molly?" Her mother, who looked so much older and much more tired, came over. "It's time to see your father in St. Mungo's. Hurry along now, we don't want to be late!"

Molly placed her book in her purse, and slipped on ballet flats, and stepped out into muggle London, Lucy and her mother by her side.

"How are my girls?" Her father called from his hospital bed. Lucy embraced him as best she could.

"Wonderful, Daddy," Lucy said.

"Glad to hear it, Lucy the Valiant Badger," he said cheerfully, despite how tiered, older, and green-tinged her looked. "And how is my snaky little Molly-Gwen?"

Molly smiled in spite of herself at the old nickname. "I wrote something for you," she said.

"Let's see it," her father said with a smile, like he always had when Molly had offered him something of hers to read and review.

Molly handed over the precious copy. "It'll sure make the hospital less boring." He looked and saw the dedication. "No, thank you, precious daughter. You've been better than a father could ask for." A Healer then came over, and the girls had to leave.

* * *

Nervousness tingled at Molly's stomach over the next few weeks. Would he like the story? Would he think it selfish to give him that type of gift? Would he approve? Would he think it to be too dark and mature for the work of an eighteen-year-old budding novelist?

Finally, there came a notice from the hospital. "Percival Ignatius Weasley, we are sorry to say, only has approximately an hour left. Please come to St. Mungo's."

Molly, Audrey, and Lucy got dressed and Apparated straight there.

His last words to Molly were, "You'll be an amazing author one day."


	3. My Name is Ella Diggory Sort Me

**AN: This is for the Kayaking Prompt, write about my OC's coming to Hogwarts for the first time. I should probably explain that these OCs are the children of OCs in one of my other stories,** _ **Ap**_ _ ** **ples and Snakes****_ **, so this contains possible spoilers since that story isn't finished yet. The word-count is 1,232, for judging purposes.**

* * *

"Be good, Ella," my father said to me.

"I will, I promise," I said, but there was lingering doubt. "Dad... What if I get into Slytherin?"

"Slytherin is a fine house," Mum assured me. "I was in it, you know. As was Merlin Emrys, the greatest wizard of all time. Also, one of your namesakes, Ellie Anders, was one of the bravest witches I knew, and she was in Slytherin."

I nodded slowly. Then I turned to my worst fear, the one I'd felt since I was old enough to know about the house system. "What if I'm in Ravenclaw?"

Mum looked at me with the emerald eyes I hadn't inherited. "Look at me, Eleanor Rhys Diggory. Remember Uncle Ky?"

I nodded, remembering the friend of my mum's who I always called uncle despite being of no blood relations.

"He was in Ravenclaw. You know Aunt Hayden, and Uncle Alex, right? They're Ravenclaws, too," she said.

"I know, I know, it's just that Ravenclaw had the most of the followers of Voldemort," I said. Several people looked at me in fear. "What?" I barked at them.

"Sh," Dad said, looking at me. "I know we say his name in our home, Ella, but at school, it might be best if you don't."

I folded my arms over my chest. "Fine." I said.

The guard gave the five-minute whistle. "I guess you'd better get going," Mum said. "Remember to write to us. And I know you're worried, but I promise, we'll be proud no matter what house you're in."

I nodded, and boarded the train. I sat down in a compartment, where a boy with curly black hair and rust-colored eyes was tinkering around with a little pipe-cleaner helicopter.

"Hey, Jacen," I said, recognizing the boy as Uncle Ky's son. "Where's Jana?"

"She's in the loo," he explained as he looked up. Right on cue, his twin, a girl with wild black curls in a high ponytail streaming over her shoulders walked into the room, followed by three others. "I found some others in need of a place to sit," she said.

"Well, let them in, then," Jacen said, half-annoyed. Jana did so, sitting next to me.

A girl with coppery red curls and tortishell "nerd" frames sat next to me shyly. "I'm Terra Williams," she explained. "I'm new to this whole magic thing. This teacher, Neville Longbottom, I think he was called- came to my parents' flat, and told me that I was a witch! Imagine the looks on their faces!"

The other two new people laughed. "I take it that you're muggle-born?" I asked the other two. One of them nodded, but the other shook her head.

"My name is Aquarius Malfoy," she said, shaking her head.

The entire compartment went quiet at that little realization.

"My name's Galen James," the boy with blond hair said. "My mum's a Squib, and my dad's a muggle. So I consider myself muggle-born."

"Wow," I marveled.

"So who are you?" Terra asked.

"I'm Ella Diggory," I said.

"This twerp is Jacen," Jana said, elbowing her twin.

"And this harpy is Jana," Jacen finished.

"Are you twins?" Aquarius asked.

"Yep," they chorused.

"So, what house do you want to be in?" Terra asked. "I'm particular to Ravenclaw-"

"NO!" Aquarius cried. "You do not want to be in Ravenclaw!"

"Why?" Terra asked.

"Yeah, I thought it was the house of intelligence," Galen chimed in.

Jacen and Jana shared an uneasy glance.

"Have you heard about the Death Eaters?" I asked.

"No," Terra replied.

"I have," Galen said.

"Well, you seem about fourteen years ago, there was this dark wizard, they call him Voldemort-"

Jacen, Jana, Aquarius, and Galen all flinched. "Stop being such babies," I retorted. "He's gone forever, isn't he?"

"That's what they said the first time," Galen said fearfully.

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, You-Know-Who gathered a regiment called Death Eaters. The first time, Slytherins were the majority of the army, since You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, you see. The second time, Ravenclaws made up the majority of the student army."

"What made it change?" Galen asked.

"Our father," Jacen said in an almost whisper. "He was You-Know-Who's apprentice for a long time, and until the Battle of London Bridge in 1996, he worked for the dark side, recruiting students over to You-Know-Who. After that, he switched sides, but the damage was already done."

"Wow," Terra said. "I think I'd rather be in Gryffindor."

* * *

The Sorting was finally here. My hands felt clammy as I waited for a stupid hat to judge me. I was pretty close to the beginning, so I knew that I would be first out of all my friends I'd met on the train.

"Diggory, Eleanor!" I started up towards the stool, and the hat was placed onto my head.

"Ah, another Diggory. You have your mother in you, rather strongly. A curious mind, that's good," a voice said in my head. "Very clever, I see, and some wisdom is in reach. Daring and courage is there, most definitely. A thrill-seeker, also, I see."

"I'm sorry, but you're definitely not Gryffindor, like your uncle. Not Hufflepuff either, like your father. There is a possibility for Slytherin, like your mother. But the house for your would be-"

 _Don't say it, don't say it._ I gripped the edged of the stool.

"Ravenclaw would suit you best, dear." I sighed and let go.

 _I don't want to be in that house. Not with its reputation._

"Often there needs to be an individual who can change the reputation of the house. I can see some of your father's goodness and your mother's selflessness in you. Maybe you can act upon it in Ravenclaw. Become a trailblazer like your mother did for Slytherin."

I nodded. _I'm ready. Sort me._

" _RAVENCLAW_!" The hat yelled out. I smiled, and sat the hat down, and joined the table of blue and bronze. I smiled as Jacen and Terra joined me.

* * *

I'm exhausted from my first day of classes. It was all so exhilarating. Professor Flitwick, the head of house, was really funny and great, so I enjoyed Charms a lot. Potions with Professor Slughorn was very enjoyable, and I left feeling more curious than I did to start. Professor Gage, the Transfiguration professor, was a bit more serious, and mechanical, but she seemed okay.

The castle was so huge! I might need a map to go through it all! It's just all so amazing! Even though magic'a been a part of my life for years and years, it still amazes me every single time, and I always can't wait to study more.

Uncle Ky, I can't wait to bring your house to glory. There's been whispers already, and smiles from the other Ravenclaws. Some of them can be cold, others a bit strange, but as the Cheshire Cat once said, we're all mad here. I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, and I have a feeling that these seven years are going to be a blast.

Tell Mum and Dad that I love them, and tell Aunt Sophie that I said hi. Thanks for being the first person to go to if I got into Ravenclaw. Hopefully the others in the family, particularly Uncle Harry, will be alright.

Lots of love,

Ella


	4. Blood on His Hands

**AN: This is for First-Aid, write about being a Healer. 982 words.**

* * *

Being a Healer was exhausting. Ky enjoyed, no, relished the hard work. He only thought about biology and Herbology for a moment, and didn't have to answer the other thoughts that plagued his mind.

Honestly, though, those very thoughts were the reason he decided to be a Healer in the first place. The Ravenclaw had a lot of regrets and doubts to deal with, and had them ever since the Second Wizarding War.

He had been on the wrong side. Ky had done things he wasn't proud of to muggle-borns, and honestly, some of them still recognized him after all those years, the proud, foolish young man in the black cloak who'd turned up his nose at them all.

The blood of many innocents was on his hands. He dreamed their faces many nights, alone in his flat. So many regrets, so many instances when he wished that he hadn't gone with what authority, that he'd stood up for what he knew, even then, deep in his heart, was right.

 _That's why you weren't in Gryffindor,_ he reminded himself as he began on the paperwork in the office of his ward at the end of his shift. _You were a gutless wonder, even at the age of eleven._

Okay, that did sting a little, coming from himself. After all, he did have some courage, didn't he? Like today. . .

* * *

An Auror stakeout with the Chosen One had gone _badly_ , to say the least. The hit-wizards were pulling in stretcher after stretcher of young and reckless Aurors who were badly injured and in need of quick, confident intervention to last more than another ten minutes.

Ky had thrown on his Healing Gloves, and had jumped right into it. Some of the Healer initiates, like his own apprentice, Gianna-Grace Marie, were horrified by the sight of all that blood. He didn't mind, after all, his nightmares were swimming with it, so it had stopped bothering him a long time ago.

Besides, there was no time to be squeamish about blood. There were lives to save, and you had to be force of calm in their fighting, panicked moments where the patients were struggling to remain alive, struggling to evade Death for a short time coming at least.

Fay Dunbar in particular was a mess. She was in need of an abdominal surgery, with several internal organs ripped to shreds. Ky looked up at the initiates in their pastel, sterile work robes, who were standing against the wall, watching the Head Healer of the Emergency Department do his work.

"What are you standing around for?" He demanded. "There are lives to save. Marie! Fawley! Evans! Help me with this one. The rest of the Aurors can be dealt with quickly! Use your best judgement! Come on, we've got to go repair several internal organs!"

The said initiates rushed over, as the others started running around, trying to talk to their patients and do their work. Well, except for Sunshine Flynn, who had been working the entire time on Harry Potter, gathering Blood-Replenishing potions and such.

 _Merlin bless Flynn_ , Ky thought gratefully, and he started pushing the stretcher with Dunbar on it to a private room where they could all begin working on her. They were having to do work that others would find disgusting and gross and icky, but they couldn't think about it.

Yet you could see how calm Dunbar was when he made her drink the Dreamless Sleep Draught. She trusted them with her life.

* * *

That still rang with him, even hours after the group had come in. Fay Dunbar at least trusted the Healers, trusted him with her life, with her own mortality, such a precious, fragile thing.

He remembered how Jack Evans started panicking when he found out how the gallbladder had pretty much exploded.

* * *

"Pull yourself together or get out!" Ky had barked. "Fay is depending on you to get her through, to make her pain stop! But you aren't going to do anything if you keep panicking like a Crup after their second tail is removed! So are you in or out?"

Evans nodded shakily, and calmed down noticeably. "I'm in," he said decisively.

"Good." Ky began working on getting a new gallbladder installed.

* * *

He sighed, as he filled out the details of who he'd treated over the day, and those thoughts plagued his mind more and more. It was strange, seeing that sort of trust in his hands, especially after the war. Then again, there was a patient every once in a whole that had heard his reputation, what he'd done, and would refuse treatment from him. He couldn't blame them.

Ky looked up at the number he had written on a memo taped to the wall in front of his desk. _97_. He had, over the course of the entire war, killed 97 people. Some people couldn't believe it, but he could. After all, he did see ninety-seven faces whenever he fell asleep, even though most of them were faceless muggles that had been the result of terrorist attacks given by the Death Eaters.

He then looked at the numbers he tacked up in red ink, the number of lives he had saved. He added another tic to the lost. _437 lives saved._ He kept counting even after he'd doubled, and probably tripled the number of lives he'd ended.

It reminded him that he was at least courageous enough to dive right in and work hard when no one else would. Maybe because he still had something to prove to himself.

"Healer Emrys?" Ky turned to see one of the comfort-providing Healers, ones who did tasks that most would consider menial in a hospital.

She stepped forwards. "Fay Dunbar's awake, and she'd like to come so she can thank you personally for the surgery that saved her life."

Ky nodded. "I'll be there in a moment."


	5. Jade vs Toad

**AN: This is for the Camp Hogwarts prompt, Singing: Write about being in the Frog Choir. Once again, I'm borrowing a character from my Apples and Snakes series, this time being Mara-Jade Evans from _Apples and Ravens_. Without further ado, _Jade vs. Toad_ :**

* * *

Mara-Jade Evans hated the Frog Choir. Simple as that. She remembered, clear as yesterday what had led to her object of hatred.

* * *

It had been a manic Monday. Jacen was busy with his other friends (his Ravenclaw friends, she noted with a sour taste), Peter and Kieran, probably doing something stupid in the library. Her friends happened to be library people. Don't get her wrong, she adored the library. After being a runaway foster child, she hadn't been in school all that much, and didn't know a lot, so the library was definitely enlightening. Hanging around with her friends, she learned how to read a bit better, since her basic skills didn't always cover the big, thick textbooks she often read with said friends. Well, they were in Ravenclaw, after all. Every single one of them except for Rowan Skywalker, that bloody brave Gryffindor.

Back to her manic Monday. She supposed she had it coming. That day, Mara-Jade was looking to get in trouble, just because she was bored, despite the mountain of homework that piled around her like her coffin, which seemed to loom in her nightmares and mind. The wild side was never far, though, for Mara-Jade.

What had she done? Oh boy, she was in big trouble, she knew it. She'd gotten some inspiration from the paintings that were down in the Slytherin dungeons, and she'd decided to mark-up the long wall along the Great Hall with an artistic rendition of the Dark Mark (which she achieved by copying the image with a handy spell Rowan taught her that made quoting textbooks easier, because let's face it, her drawing was horrendous) and enlarged the image, and wrote in large, barely legible capital letters, _LONG LIVE EVIL_.

Maybe it wasn't the most tasteful, with the Knights of Walpurgis, but she knew Jacen and Ella would find it very funny, in their anti-Knights campaign, in a sick, twisted, irony-filled way. The thing was, she was humming this Disney song from one of the many foster homes she'd been shunted around.

 _"One jump ahead of the bread line,_

 _One swing, ahead of the sword_

 _I steal only what I can't afford- and that's everything!"_

"Miss Evans- what is that tune?" Professor Flitwick had asked her when the elven man finally caught up to her. She shrugged in response. It didn't matter, at least not to her. He smiled. "You have talent my dear. I think perhaps you'd like to refine those talents, don't you think?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not joining the Frog Choir, if that's what you're saying!"

"Oh, but Miss Evans, would you prefer detention for that rather distasteful display that could be considered terrorism, and possible trouble with the Aurors that could even lead to a sentence in Erewhon, the new prison that was established after Minister Shacklebolt declared inhumane, or you could just join the Frog Choir and I will forget all about you," he said in a gambit.

* * *

Mara-Jade of course decided that the Frog Choir was a better sentence than Erewhon, and she, being a sneaky Slytherin, figured that a show choir was easier to slither out of than a prison sentence and a criminal record. She was very wrong.

First of all, she had to get a toad, despite the name being Frog Choir, because Professor Flitwick wanted to make sure that everyone had the proper accompaniment of the bass of the croaking of toads.

"It especially helps with that alto voice," he'd told her when she had complained about just how not cool toads were, and how she didn't want to blow her one-pet allowance on a stupid toad for the choir she'd been blackmailed into. Of course, she had to buy a toad since Flitwick still had the dirt on her.

Being in the Frog Choir also meant practices. Multiple practices. Often early in the morning, before Mara-Jade was ever coherent. Her free time was rarely spent in the library just goofing off anymore. If she was in the library, it was because she needed to get a homework assignment done, and/or she needed Jacen's help. Any other time, she was practicing. How she hated practicing.

She loved singing or whistling or humming tunes as she went down the corridors, separate from the other Slytherins, or at least she used to. Now that she was singing every free hour, she rested her voice in between classes. She had a feeling, though, that she wouldn't want to now anyways, even if she could use her voice.

Flitwick always seemed under the impression that Mara-Jade loved the Frog Choir. Sure, she plastered that grin on her face whenever she was within a twenty-mile radius of the tiny professor, but that was always. She remembered the last meeting of the year- June 25, after all of the craziness with the Knights of Walpurgis.

* * *

"Students," he began in his squeaky voice. "I am glad to have gotten to know each and every one of you as the year has gone by. The final performance is optional, and I know I'll see you all again next year."

Mara-Jade had turned to leave, now that her sentence was completed, when Professor Flitwick stopped her.

"My dear, aren't you going to perform at the End-of-Year banquet?" He asked. "You truly have grown to be a strong singer, Miss Evans."

"I've finished with the Frog Choir," Mara-Jade replied evenly. "I don't like it."

"But Miss Evans, you loved it," Professor Flitwick protested.

"I hated it," she sneered. "So unless you're going to chain me here with blackmail, I'll be leaving." With that, she'd stormed out of the classroom. Best decision of her life.

* * *

Now, Mara-Jade couldn't even hum without dreadful memories resurfacing of the Frog Choir.

"You used to sing a lot," Jacen told her one day, years from her awful second year. "Think you could give me a tune, Mars?"

She shook her head. Mara-Jade despised singing, ever since the day she joined the Frog Choir.


	6. Questing Beast

**AN: This is for Hogwarts Challenges, Scavneger Hunt. This is a companion piece to Once and Future King, with King Arthur!Cedric. Wordcount is 907.**

* * *

"Shh! Quiet, Wart!" Luna hissed as she pulled the Omnioculars on. "What are we looking for, again?"

"The Questing Beast," Wart replied, amused. "Trust me, Lu, it'll be worth it."

"Not without coffee, it won't," she grumbled.

Wart grinned. It wasn't often that Luna got infuriated, but he was often enough the one to receive the honor of having done the impossible. It was a good sorts of infuriating, though. It made her seem more human and less like some ethereal being or force of nature.

* * *

It had been a Sunday morning, when Wart and Luna had made their way down from the Hogsmeade Chapel. They'd been arguing good-naturedly about something or another, when they'd stumbled across the topic they often strayed to-Wart's first lifetime as the legendary King Arthur.

"I wonder what happened to the Pellinore line," he had mused.

"The Pellinores? I think they died out a few years ago," Luna said, remembering an announcement her father had sent out in her first-year about some legend with the Pellinore line being descended from some mysterious beast.

"Oh no." Wart's steel-colored eyes widened. "Oh, the poor Questing Beast."

"The Questing Beast?" Luna asked, referring mentally back to that issue of the Quibbler. "So it's true, then, that the line was tied to some mysterious beast?"

"I don't know how," he admitted. "But the Pellinores were tied to the fate of the Questing Beast. You see, the Questing Beast only continues to live as long as someone is hunting for it. It will never get caught, though, or if it is, it is let go, as the Questing Beast only exists to be quested for."

"Is it dead now, then?" She asked.

"No," he answered. "How long ago did the line die out?"

"Three years ago," she answered. He looked relieved.

"It might be falling ill now, but if we take up the quest, it shall get better and continue to thrive," he reasoned.

* * *

Now they were deep in the Welsh forests, lines set and traps a-ready. Luna was already becoming frustrated with this stupid Questing Beast. Why she'd let Wart talk her into that, she had no clue.

"What now?" Wart asked.

Her silvery eyes were full of horror as silver met steel. "I thought you were the one who knew about this!" She cried angrily. "Don't you know how to catch the Questing Beast?"

"Well, King Pellinore did, but he's most certainly dead, and I haven't exactly communed with the dead ever so-" he trailed off, not wanting to face the moon child's wrath. He knew what was said about nice ladies being a terrifying force of nature when angered, and he knew Luna was full of compassion and kindness... Thinking about the possible terrifying possibilities was enough to make him physically shudder.

"Ugh!" She hit his shoulder. "We've been in this forest for a month now, Wart. My patience is beginning to run out."

"Sorry, Lu," he said honestly, starting to fear for his life a little, particularly with the Sword from the Stone sitting in the corner of their tent. "Honestly, if we don't find anything tonight, we will go back into the main town."

She softened, realizing how fiery she'd been. Fiery was not a term usually used to describe Luna Lovegood. Strange, weird, mysterious? Yes. Kind, even, but no one described her as fiery.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper," she apologized. Wart placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"It's alright, Lu. We just have to get through tonight, and it's all over, for a couple days at least," he reassured her. Luna smiled at him, and looked back down to her information about the Questing Beast. If she could at least have a picture that wasn't an ancient sketch, she'd highly appreciate it. Made her definitely appreciate today's technology.

There came a rustling noise in the bushes, and the couple straightened up. They scanned the dark forest, and raised their wands, which had a minimal lighting charm on them so that the camera was able to actually capture a picture of the Questing Beast.

Luna raised her camera, ready to get a picture, and exchanged a glance with Wart. Taking his sword with them, they stepped out of the safety of the tent (which had a ring of salt with superstitious claims of protection and defensive charms that could repel the forces of evil) and began towards the source of the sound. There was more rustling, and the couple began to run through the woods, after the Questing Beast.

"You-never-said-how-fast-it runs," Luna panted.

"We couldn't exactly clock it for a speed, could we?" Wart snapped.

"I keep forgetting about the technology," Luna admitted.

The two continued to run through the forest, and the camera felt heavier and heavier in the hands of Luna Lovegood. Wart was starting to regret running with his sword, until they had to start hacking through vines and such.

"Stupid Questing Beast," Wart grumbled as he started hacking through the next tree that was old and rotten. "Deforestation via its hunters."

"All I want is a picture," Luna hissed. "Is that so hard to get?"

They exchanged a glance and Wart raised his eyebrows. "Don't answer that."

There was another rustle, and on reflex, Luna hit the button. Flash! The photo of a beast unlike any other she'd ever seen.

"So that's the Questing Beast?" She asked.

"That's the Questing Beast," he confirmed.

"What now?" Luna asked.

"We keep going, since the Quest never ends!"


	7. Friday Night Frights

**AN: Exactly 900 words. For the Paintball prompt, write about an ambush.**

Seven small figures began to sneak down the hallways, having come from two houses, but mostly one-Gryffindor. It figures, in a way. Gryffindors are reckless and brave, often to the point of stupidity.

As for one, Luna Lovegood, she was a silvery Ravenclaw with several oddities about her, and she had her own boldness that was uncharacteristic for one of her house. The others, as previously stated, were red and gold lions.

The one leading the charge was indeed Neville Longbottom, the son of legendary Aurors who never quite seemed to have inherited his parents' powerful abilities. He now bore scars and bruises from the Carrows, the cruel disciplinarians that had taken over the school for the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who.

At his side was the fiery, untamable Ginny Weasley, the youngest of seven siblings, and the former girlfriend of Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived. She had an inferno in her chocolate eyes that no one dared touch, not even the Carrows could quite touch the mustang that was Ginevra Molly Weasley.

Assisting them in their deeds were the Creevy brothers, Dennis and Colin, boys who revered Harry Potter and were suffering under the anti-muggle-born regime. They had been forced through Ministry trials and were forced to return to Hogwarts, where it was only a matter of time before their deaths; Natalie McDonald, a muggleborn-girl in Dennis's year who was spirited and mischievous before the reign of terror caused by the Carrows; finally, there was Nigel Wolport, the youngest fanboy of the group, another terrorized muggle-born who had nothing to lose.

These youths had a prankster mission that was plenty rebellious in the time of darkness that evil had sprung upon them. They would annoy the Carrows into oblivion hopefully with their juvenile antics. The side of laughter and light would win!

"Remember the spray cans," Neville had hissed to Natalie, who was a muggle artist in her right, a girl who loved to draw and paint, and lived in the slums of London, so tagging was a recreational pastime of hers over summer vacation.

She regarded this with a militaristic attitude, planning ever second of it, and deciding off the bat who would have what paint can and what it would say. Mostly they wrote messages of the fact that they were still rebelling, recruiting, and resisting. The resistance was very much alive, and maybe, just maybe, they could retake the school without the help of the absent Golden Trio, with these fear tactics turned against the Carrows.

Once they were sure that they were alone, Neville and Ginny patrolled the ends of the corridors, making sure that they weren't caught by said Carrows and wouldn't risk their icy wrath.

Natalie tossed Luna a spray-can the color of acid, a kill-me-now green, and Colin a yellow that would make Hufflepuffs jealous. Dennis received a fetching scarlet can, and Nigel a radiant turquoise. Natalie herself used a violent violet to write, LONG LIVE THE BOY WHO LIVED and added a lightning bolt on the end.

She was rather proud of this work, as were the others. Even Ginny and Neville abandoned their posts to look at their punk handiwork. What they'd forgotten-the risks of such a stunt, they were reminded of, and quickly.

"Petrificus Totalus!" A man's cruel voice bellowed, and Nigel barely ducked the beam of light, and the group began to run down the hallway, when at the other end was Draco Malfoy and his cronies, and out of passageways that happened to be in the very corridor where they had planned their prank. They had chosen rather unwisely.

Neville surveyed the circumstances. There were more Death Eater affiliates and sympathizers than them, but they had to attempt to fight it out, despite that they knew who was there, they knew who they needed to track down, punish, and make an example of.

Ginny watched fiercely. "It's an ambush!" She declared.

Neville glared at her. "You think?"

Everyone stared at Neville. That may have been the first time they ever heard the klutzy underdog use sarcasm. They were under the impression that he didn't even know what it was. How interesting it was for them to discover that they were very wrong. The Aurors' son knew sarcasm and wielded it like a dagger-not obviously threatening, but quick and strategic.

They were returned to the situation at hand when Ginny was stunned by Alecto Carrow, who had the actual appearance of the traditional muggle witch, minus the green skin, of course. She had the red hair and green eyes, the warts on her nose, and was plenty ugly, in many people's opinions.

Colin picked up the petite redhead, and the others formed a protective circle around their incapacitated party member. They fought fast and hard, exchanging spells, dueling three at a time, but they knew they were fighting a losing battle. There was no way out, but they weren't going down without a fight. That war how dictatorships persisted, and that's what they were trying to kill. Someday soon, they hoped, they would succeed. But not today, they was for sure.

Alecto and Amycus smirked when the perpetrators, bound with invisible robes, were dragged in front of them, sadistic lights twinkling in the twin green eyes.

"You're in big trouble," Amycus smugly informed them.


	8. Home Government Peace

**AN: Final prompt for Camp Hogwarts, Fort-Building: Write about the Golden Trio rebuilding the magical world after the war. My Wordcount is 919. Thank you!**

He knew he had to do it. He was to help rebuild the magical world as he once knew it. God, how he remembered the days when everything was simple, and, pun-intended, magical. He wanted it to be like that for all re-entering the world he came into at the age of eleven.

He remembered the feeling of home when he rebuilt the homes and Hogwarts itself after the battles that had taken place there. It had been a strange, unique feeling that had never been replicated anywhere else to him, and he almost felt sorry for even the Death Eaters who had lost their homes to the fights.

Granted, they had the money to replace any estate they might've lost, and that was really the least of their problems, not if the new Ministry that his friend (sister, almost) had created up from the ashes, had their way with the men and women on trial for their crimes against humanity.

Still, he felt as though everyone should get to have that wonderful feeling. No one deserved to have that feeling that they belonged nowhere, as he had until he was eleven. That led him towards the other changes he made.

He wanted to create a support system for those with nowhere to go in the magical world, for those being abused like he was, for magical orphans. He wanted there to be someone or something or someplace there for the children even if no one else was.

That reminded him of another change he wanted to make. He would make sure that propaganda would never be spit out of the mouthpiece of the magical world, the Daily Prophet, ever again. If the magical population of Britain would only have one information source, he would make damn sure that it never made the world crumble down on lies like it had his.

Harry Potter wanted to make the magical world his home, and feel like home for the others who were lost, like he, Severus Snape, and Tom Riddle Jr. Maybe that would cut down on the general dark wizardry in Britain.

* * *

She wanted to do it. Everything she'd seen for years and years, she would finally get to fix. Many didn't see it, but she always had. They called her odd, they told her she was too high-strung, that she was asking for too much. She preferred the term feminist.

What she wanted was to make things equal for witches and wizards, pure-bloods, half-bloods, and muggle-borns, and between magical-kind and mythical beasts that were now a part of her world.

She wanted to make a government that didn't have the problems that she observed a long time ago, before either of her admittedly male friends ever did. She wanted to end the corruption in the Ministry. Add checks and balances. Work for the greater good of the magical people. And maybe someday, if she was daring, propose revealing themselves to the muggle world.

Yes, it was gutsy, but no one said that she wasn't a gutsy witch. She knew what it was like to give up all her hopes and dreams and friends and her culture for the supposedly better muggle one. She knew of how muggles ruined Ariana Dumbledore's life. She knew they could avoid so much if they were in the open. Times were indeed changing, and she intended to keep up with them.

It had an awful long way to go, and it gave her a headache sometimes, but she was determined to get where she felt was the best for the magical world and the Ministry of Magic, her pride and joy that she had completely rebuilt from the ground up.

Hermione Granger needed a better government.

* * *

He didn't have to do it. Not like he was being forced to do it, exactly, but he was rather urged to. Not by his best friends, although they were grateful for the help, but by something else. It was the same little voice that told him to go back when he abandoned them to die on their quest to destroy You-Know-Who's source of power. One might call it his conscience.

His eyes had been opened to the problems she had always claimed was there, and he now knew, after suffering because of it. Merlin, he wondered why he hadn't listened to her before then on such subjects. Perhaps because he was quite stupid. Everyone knew that his O.W.L.s were only a result of luck and talent, not actual brains.

Back to the problems that he'd ignored, though. They made him question his morality and who he really was. It made him question his culture, the way he'd grown up. Sure, he didn't hate muggles, but he did look down on them, didn't he? Despite the fact that she was of muggle heritage? What kind of system was this?

Maybe his dad wasn't the nutter he always claimed he was. Maybe he had it right, practically worshipping muggle artifacts he could come across. After all, they were humans, just like he was, right? What made them so much more useless than wizards? After all, they had more than made up for it in technology.

Perhaps these were just ramblings, since after all, they did say that he'd cracked after the Horcrux Hunt. But still, they counted for something in his mind, and he wanted to complete the vision he had.

Ronald Weasley wished for peace.


End file.
